


Across the Field

by MignonOphelia



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Diaval POV, F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:04:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MignonOphelia/pseuds/MignonOphelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble on the Meeting between Maleficent and Diaval.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Field

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Maleficent or any of its characters

When he saw her, limping through the dark fields in the dusk of winter, he followed. He had left his brothers and sisters foraging in the grain, drawn to the howling in the woods surrounding the Moors at first light. What he thought was the proud pack’s hunting call of victory turned into the hobbling silhouette leaving the treeline. Would any other raven have continuously strayed so far from the cattle and fields? No other bird was probably as foolish, but curiosity overwhelmed his hollow bones and drove him to the blackened stone castle. He circled as she climbed the steps to the tower, certain of not making a sound. Something was driving her towards the blacken stone. A persistence that drove her steps.  
She settled against the cold mason, looking perfectly still like a statue. It wasn’t until a breeze carried him closer so that he may see the rise and fall of her chest. Certain she wasn’t dead, he perched atop a broken wall and cawed, the feathers of his throat ruffling.  
She lifted her gaze and tired golden, green eyes met with the raven’s brown. In their depths the bird spied overwhelming, angry exhaustion. He responded with a flick of his feathered head to the side and a grumbling croak.  
A hint of a smile play along her ruby lips, but was gone within an instant. With a gentle puff, a cloud of gold startled the large bird and he took to the air.  
He flew high up into the clouds before he looked back down. The castle was a simple dark smudge on the evergreen fields. As the thought of returning to that broken wall entered his mind, the smell of grain and the hunger of his stomach called him to the fields. 

The late summer’s harvest glowed as the sun reached it’s height in the sky, calling to the young raven. Others of his kind flew in pairs amongst the stalks and shared the wheat, but not him. Three summers had passed in his life and he had not found a mate. If this was the summer of his choosing, then he would look once all the grain was gone, just before the seasons slipped into cold. Perhaps he’d find a mate that appreciated his beautiful feathers more than his brothers and sisters. They thought he was too proud of his beautiful down, but the young bird cared not.  
He flew to perch on the shoulder of the scarecrow to scan for the best grain, his thoughts on a mate forgotten. When he found what he wanted, he dove into the stalks and began pecking.  
He was so focused on his breakfast that he wasn’t aware of the commotion of the farmer’s dogs rustling through the field and causing the other birds to flee.  
He lifted his head just as the roughspun net descended upon him. Panic flooded the poor bird as the heavy net pulled him to the ground with stone dragging the edges. He squawked and sprawled about, unable to tell the difference between his own cries and the vicious barks of the dogs over him. More than anything, he feared their dripping fangs.  
He clawed at the net helplessly. He cried helplessly. The farmer, now dancing around the bird, found amusement in his frenzy.  
“I’ve gotcha!” The farmer giggled as he ran for his club.  
The raven did not think that this could be his last moments. He thought only of freeing himself, but the weight on his wings trapped him.  
Suddenly, he no longer heard his frightened screeches. The barking and the heckling gave way to silence and one voice echoed through his mind.  
Into a man.  
Growing began inside him. No longer a feeling of fear as his skin stretched and strained. His body grew to twice his size, to three times his size. Claws gave way to flesh and bone as he felt the change expand his chest and wings. Wings, no. No longer wings, he had arms. His squawks continued, but no longer coming from a beak, and sounding more like the agony of a man.  
Rising to his feet, he flung the net off his naked human body and watched the last of his beautiful feathers retreat into his arms. He was more than just perplexed by this transformation, almost felt irritated.  
“It’s a demon!” The whimper of the farmer and dogs was the same as they scurried off into the fields. Yet, the raven, now man, did not notice. He was more perplexed by the strands of hair now hanging before his eyes.  
He looked down. He was positively human. A filthy human. Not a single ebony feather graced his scarred, pale skin. He struggled to balance on long, lean legs, but couldn’t help spinning about to look at his form.  
Mid-spin he stopped and met those golden, green eyes from before. She circled him and he followed. Her expression was cold, yet curious.  
Had she merely changed him into a human to toy with me? He hated humans. Every bird hated humans. She must know this. She had stripped him of his glorious feathers and now she wanted to watch him suffer as a monstrous human.  
“What have you done to my beautiful self?” He felt his face twitch with irritation… or was it curiosity? Was she punishing him for following her to her hiding spot?  
Each step she took looked as if it was a great effort for her. She seemed unbalanced and leaned on her peculiar staff.  
Maybe she’ll beat me with that staff and put me out of my misery, he thought with another twitch of his face.  
Before he had time to flinch, she answered. “Would you rather I let them beat you to death?”  
“I’m not certain,” he replied with one quick look back at the absence of his tail feathers. Human bodies seemed so bizarre to him. Meat in places he’d rather have feathers.  
“Stop complaining,” she hushed. “I saved your life.”  
He couldn’t read her, but she was direct and definitely driven. Blinking, he gazed her over. He still had his hesitations, yet…she must have reason to change him.  
And you’re being rude. He humbled himself and apologized as the realization that he owed her his very life. He felt shame creep into his chest, something he wasn’t familiar with.  
“Forgive me.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. She may see the fear in them as he realized how close he came to those filthy jaws. A shudder came and left his body before she spoke again.  
“What do I call you?”  
He raised his chin as pride gathered in his bosom. “Diaval.” He felt compelled to pledge to her, though his nervous glances up and down her made him seem unsure. It’s her eyes, he thought to himself. They never left his face and they shined with an intense radiance. Her eyes scared him. Her eyes fascinated him. “And in return for saving my life I am your servant.”  
This seemed to please her as she softened her gaze and almost, almost, smiled.  
“What ever you need.” Diaval attempted a bow. He had seen the humans do it before in the presence of those above them. If he was her pledge now… she was his mistress. He heard her take a deep breath, as if what she was about to say burdened her.  
“Wings,” she breathed. “I need you to be my wings.”


End file.
